


I think more than I want to think

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Series: We'll take it slow [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: "We'll take it slow", Day 5, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, Skye is working things out, Trust Issues, getting there, skoulsonfest2k15redux, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4418777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye is figuring things out, Coulson is wonderfully, annoyingly patient. </p><p>SkoulsonFest2k15Redux Day 5: Trust issues, "We'll take it slow."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I think more than I want to think

**Author's Note:**

> Part two! Apologies in advance. :)

Skye made a slight hissing noise at the sting of the antiseptic on her cheek.

“Sorry,” Coulson muttered, but she waved it away. She’d dealt with worse pain (getting shot, breaking her arms, fighting Melinda May, her mother sucking the life out of her, to name a few instances,) she could deal with a little peroxide. “I don’t think this will need stitches,” he told her quietly, reassuring. His voice was close as he cleaned and examined the wounds on her face and neck. “Maybe a couple butterfly strips to be safe.” He stepped back from her side, and Skye exhaled a small breath.

They were in the lab on the New Bus, although they hadn’t really decided what to call it yet. May was in the cockpit bringing them home, while Bobbi and Hunter were nowhere to be found. Probably fighting or screwing or most likely fighting somewhere. She couldn’t blame them. Tensions were pretty high.

True to form, the team saw some more excitement, with hardly a break since the last incident. It had been about a week since their confrontation with Hydra 3.0, Ward Edition, and already they found themselves in the midst of another fray.

But this one was almost more worrisome. A group of “concerned citizens” decided it was time for them to take care of the problems their town was facing because of a newly gifted individual. Whether or not they even attempted to contact a more competent, experienced resource before essentially becoming a pitchfork wielding mob (or the modern version, with freaking _guns_ ,) was still unclear.

Skye doubted it, really. They were the types of people to decry others for not helping but refuse to ask for it in the first place. The reality was they were pissed and afraid and a young girl and her family were suffering because of it.

“You okay?” Coulson asked, moving his hand to lightly touch her knee, but halfway through the motion changing his mind. Instead he grabbed another small piece of gauze, dabbing at a wet trail of antiseptic trailing down her cheek. He’d returned with the butterfly stitches and a few other items, taking his place back at her side. “The family didn’t get hurt,” he told her, reading her mind.

“Yeah, just run out of town, fearing for their lives,” Skye responded, and Coulson sighed. He wouldn’t argue with her there.

“We put them in a safe place until everything calms down, and we’ll go from here,” he said simply. “The people responsible for the violence and destruction will face the consequences.” Skye could hear the anger bubbling under the surface in his calm voice now. He had been afraid at first, she could tell. Even if Skye could handle herself against way more civilians than they were up against, the first outburst caught her off guard. She guessed she was lucky, in that her small cheek injury was the worst of it.

“Who throws rocks these days, honestly?” She asked, needing the levity. Coulson grimaced, but didn’t chastise her. Probably because he knew. He knew everything about her, it seemed. He knew that she was the right person to talk Kaila down while he reassured her parents. He’d placed a calming hand on her shoulder when some idiot started screaming at the her, the girl and her family. Calling them ‘monsters.’ Clearly Coulson knew that Skye was about to drop that guy in about two seconds.

He knew her primary concern would be the family.

He knew that she hated stitches, that the sight of sewed up flesh brought up some sort of primal revulsion in her. He didn’t know why, didn’t know that a particularly cruel foster brother made her watch Frankenstein at way too young an age. But she hadn’t needed to explain.

He never needed her to explain herself, apparently. Even when maybe he should.

They had yet to talk about it, which was just fine with him. He was acting like everything was normal. But was it?

All Skye knew was that his hand was suddenly on her cheek and she jumped slightly, before realizing he was simply holding her still so he could place the bandage. Her movement was subtle, but Coulson pulled back as if he’d been burned.

“Sorry,” he told her, sincerely, and Skye hated herself a little bit. “I wasn’t--”

“I know, I know, sorry,” she interrupted, cynically wondering who would apologize more in this relationship. _Friendship. Partnership._ “I was just in my own head, forgot I was here,” she sort of lied. Coulson just nodded, picking off the ruined bandage that had stuck to his finger in the moment and grabbing a new one.

“Is it--” Coulson gestured toward her face. Asking permission.

“Don’t do that,” she told him sharply, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _Don’t be mad at_ him _, stupid._ “Sorry, that was...Just, don’t tiptoe around me, please? I’m not like, _bothered_ by you or anything.”

It was the first time it had come up, even vaguely, and Skye held her breath. Coulson seemed to pause for a moment, but then just gave a small nod. His expression was hard to read--well, there wasn’t really an expression there. He was in Agent Mode. His hand moved up to cup her other cheek, his thumb under her chin to keep her face still while he worked. It was a different touch from the moment in his office, more clinical and deliberate.

Skye remembered the way his fingers tangled in her hair slightly.

It was _very_ different.

Coulson breathed through his nose, barely making a sound while he placed the first butterfly stitch over the cut and reaching for another. Skye, who had kept her eyes trained on the ceiling, snuck a look at his face.

Was there anything there? Anything indicating that he was feeling nervous around her? Honestly, no. He was just regular old professional Coulson. Could he really have those feelings for her if he was able to cover it up like this?

_Or, how long has he been covering it up like this, without me knowing?_

‘ _A while_ ,’ he’d told her. What did that mean? A couple months? A year? Since they’d met? How long was she oblivious that he had feelings for her?

Her inability to categorize their relationship all this time.

Coulson had defined it for himself, possibly ages ago.

That had to mean something.

That they had spent all this time on the same level, caring about each other the same amount, holding each other up as their top priority over basically everything else.

And Coulson had classified that as romantic.

She ventured a look at his face as he carefully placed the second stitch. She was not put off by how close it was, either because of the clinical reason he was there, or the fact that it was _Coulson’s_ face. Him kissing her may have changed some things, but it didn’t change that.

She was no less comfortable with him.

He was a good looking guy, she thought, looking over the general structure of his face. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought that, obviously. She was a human(ish) woman. She had feelings.

_And eyes._

Sure, Coulson was a little older. A lot older, she supposed, but unless he was looking particularly harried or exhausted, she mostly forgot. Some of his references were dated, but she quoted 80s movies all the time and she barely around for those.

The suits. She’d never dated a guy in suits before. Miles had worn a hideous blazer on their anniversary one year, just to get a rise out of her, but that was it really.

The appearance of the suits was so constant, it could be outright jarring to see Coulson out of them. _In other clothes, that is._

It was definitely rare, only happening a handful of times since she’d known him. The most obvious one being that night when he was carving the symbols. Sweat pooling on his forehead and arms, forming a dark circle on his lower back through the his t-shirt.

She mentioned that she had eyes, right? Maybe not the most opportune time to check someone out, but there it was.

Coulson stepped back, releasing her chin from his light grip. “I think that should do it,” he told her, and Skye murmured her thanks. Coulson nodded and was about to turn away, but Skye grabbed his arm.

“You know that I--” She pursed her lips, needing to do this correctly. She wasn’t like him in that regard. She couldn’t pretend everything was normal. “You know that I _love_ you, right?” No matter what, Skye needed him to know that. She couldn’t stand the idea of him thinking otherwise. “You are _the_ most important person in my life right now. Basically ever.”

Coulson didn’t quite smile, but looked at her softly, understanding her immediately the way he always seemed to. “Me too,” he told her, and Skye nodded.

“So this is pretty, you know, important,” she told him. “And I might need time to figure out what exactly is going on with me, you know?” She sighed. “I mean, let’s face it, that’s a whole other issue there, regardless of everything else. Miles was my last serious relationship and since that ended the only--” She grimaced. “Not that I’m worried about anything like that happening with you, obviously. But I’ve got...problems.” She finished lamely. That didn’t go like she planned.

Coulson placed a hand on her upper arm, with little to no hesitation this time, thank goodness. “Skye, I promise, I’m not in any rush here. You take whatever time you need to figure it out. If you don’t feel the same way, we’ll be fine. I would never, ever hold that against you.”

Skye nodded profusely. She knew. Her fear was never Coulson resenting her, she was more focused on never ever making Coulson sad. Ever. It was bad enough he had to see her get hurt, the last thing she wanted was to cause him pain.

“And if--” Coulson cut himself off, probably worrying about sounding presumptuous. How strange it was to hear Coulson talk about his feelings for her. This was Director Phil Coulson, referring to his romantic feelings for _her_. “If you ever _do_ , well, we’ll just go from there. We’ll take it slow.”

Those words hung back, occupying Skye’s brain. It was the same thing he’d said when he first told her about the Caterpillars project. She knew what needed to happen. She was in a rough place right now, and the last thing she wanted to do was be caught between her missions and diving into how she felt every time she and Coulson were in the same room. 

“I think it would be good for me to spend some time at the compound. Like you said.” He wasn’t sending her away, and she wasn’t running away. But after the day they’d had, she knew now more than ever that she needed to get that place up and running, needed a safe place for people like Kaila to go and learn about themselves. They needed time to spend in peace, figure themselves out.

She would be able to do the same. 

Coulson agreed, and they hashed out her plans. She would leave the next day.

 

 


End file.
